Utter. Crap.

I mean it. Have you met this person in real life? If you climb their wall, what is your reward? Do you reap the bounty of them? Do they embrace you, give you back what you’ve put into them, what you need to feel loved?

Your climbing, your effort, makes them feel wanted. And they’re desperate for that, because they are depressed. You don’t matter so much. It’s how you make them feel. So that wall will keep getting rebuilt. And if you don’t keep climbing, till your fingers are chafed and bloody, til you’re covered in mud and exhausted, well….that’s just proof you don’t really love them. Just as they suspected. All along. You’re just like all the rest.

And switch sides now; how nice is it that your loved one has to do all the work, why you sit, toe-tapping in your melancholy beauty, waiting to be reached, too delicate to return the effort? Who do you think you are?

Depression and introversion are not a person’s fault. But neither are they beautiful, winsome, Heathcliff-and-Catherine-midnight-on-the-moors romantic conditions. They’re something you need to work on.

Not gonna work, hon. Never does with that sort.

If you need to live inside a wall at this point in your life, fair enough. That’s ok. But if someone is kind enough to try and reach you, and you don’t help? And you expect them to keep reaching to prove they love you? Phsht.

Remember, Catherine died from wandering around in a storm like an idiot and Heathcliff spends the rest of his life being an asshole and spending too much time obsessing over her corpse. Moral: Don’t let other people be responsible for your happiness. They will break under the strain. And you end up cold and lonely and dead on the Yorkshire moors.